Warning! This chapter, unlike the previous five, contains a capacious amount of violence that I haven't quite touched upon until this point. Chapter Six features ripped flesh, spilled blood, and other unpleasant misuses of bodily substances. I had to give this story a T rating for a reason, so if you happen to be offended by the violence within, I would advise you to skip this chapter as soon as the next is uploaded, and also ask you why you came to this archive in the first place.
Chapter Six
The sudden attack by the monsters had left the Emerack stunned. None of them had predicted such extreme violence so swiftly and so early. No trace of Firtale had been found after hours of searching, only adding to the sense of dread each pack mate felt. There had been no footprints, no kicked-up dirt, not a single disturbed leaf within miles of the forager's usual route. Puck had no doubt in his mind that she was dead, but the pack would have to keep looking until undeniable proof of Firtale's demise had been found. It was simply how things were done.
Nor could there be any assumption of Firtale simply losing her way; every Emerack, even the children had a complete mental image of their home ingrained into their heads through repetition and unrivalled attention to detail. It was unheard of for any one of the pack to stray far from the lightly wooded pathways. There was always a possibility, if a minuscule one, but in this case it had been utterly shattered.
Utterly shattered by the scream.
The scream was the signature of the monsters. Just before an attack, the beasts would emit a wailing, echoing shriek that instilled fear in every nerve in the body. As the prey's blood would run cold out of terror and their legs paralysed with shock, the monsters would set upon it as one, and end the hunt before it had even begun. But what was most eerie about Firtale's disappearance was that it had happened in daylight, in Spring. The monsters should have been slumbering, emerging once every week or so to catch a target, before retreating again. And even then, the monsters were by no means perfect in their feeding. Tracks were left, foliage rustled, stray drops of blood left in the soil. And yet Firtale had had no time to run, and her entire body had been taken.
The monsters were on the move, and they were starved.
"It'll be tonight," Jacinth insisted. "They'll all come, all at once, and they'll do it tonight."
Puck sighed, and rested his head on the grassy slope. Lack of sleep had left him feeling as if he were dead, and liable to pass out at a moment's notice. He stared up at the stars in the cloudless night sky and felt oddly at peace. While the world kept moving and tragic events came and passed, the sun, moon and stars were the only consistent factor in the Emerack's lives and were revered for it. Puck shut his tired eyelids and began to recite the sacred mantra in his mind.
While there is dawn we will wake, while there is a day -
"What makes you say that?" asked Mortai on Puck's right side. "Something's obviously got them excited, but they only ever attack one at a time, when there's no-one else around."
"When the usual prey starts dwindling they close in on the best catches," objected Jacinth on his left. "We are the best catches. If they overrun us, they could feed for days. Maybe they would even claim our nests for a new den."
"That's a pessimistic way of looking at it. Nothing would dare attack us when we're all gathered together. They will lose interest and move on soon enough. May I remind you that they haven't even been seen yet?"
"They have, but not in the flesh. Anyone who's been keeping guard at night could tell you that they have been watching us. No matter how good their camouflage is, they still aren't perfect. If someone looks closely enough, they can see shadows where there should be no shadows. They grow longer, they make strange patterns, they move without a breeze."
"But if the monsters are just as coordinated as you keep telling me, then wouldn't they realise just how exposed they would be if they attack? We would see them coming, hurl things at them, confuse them, and run. The usual tactics."
"Not if they outnumber us enough. Then they could completely encircle us and not have to worry about a few injuries once they have -"
"Please stop talking," Puck groaned. "I haven't slept for days. You two aren't exactly helping me."
"Then go and snatch a few hours in your burrow," Jacinth said. "We've got enough of us around the hilltop to keep watch."
Puck climbed to his feet and stretched his legs and arms, taking a moment to look around the moonlit nesting hill and beyond. Nocturnal birds softly cooed to each other in the shaded trees, and a few solitary insects chirped a steady rhythm. While still Spring, the air was gradually becoming more humid in the day and dropping to a refreshingly cool temperature at night. The first signs of Summer were beginning to show themselves. Puck let out a yawn, turned to head down to his burrow and paused briefly.
"Would either of you happen to know where Kirett is, by any chance?"
"He went for a drink by the river a while ago, but I think he's back now," Jacinth said. "He'd be willing to fill in for you on guard for a bit if you see him. If you don't, Taeri and Wirax might help if you somehow managed to teach them the concept of favours."
Mortai frowned. Puck smiled, before standing rigid. He was suddenly compelled to approach the hilltop's edge and down at the trees.
Mortai saw his expression. "Puck, what's wrong? Is something the ma-"
"Hush." Puck put a finger to his lips. His eyes didn't waver from the treeline. Squatting quickly, he scooped up a rock and held it tightly in his hands. Jacinth and Mortai were both standing now, and clutched missiles of their own.
The shadows lengthened, and a wave of pure nightmares swarmed forth.
Bathed in the starlight, the creatures' hideous bodies were revealed to the three onlookers. Sturdy yet sleek, the hide of the monsters bulged with sinewy muscle; jet black and underlying crimson hues conveying the appearance of rotten flesh. Claws glinted in the moonlit night as the killers bounded forward on quadrupedal legs. Ugly red eyes stared upwards, and maws of serrated teeth snapped and drooled.
And the scream. The horrible, horrible scream.
The Emerack had only ever heard the screams one at a time, and now almost two dozen were piercing the midnight air. The sense-shattering sound reverberated through the mind, drowning out and destroying all other noises. Puck's feet remained rooted to the ground out of pure shock. In the corner of his eye, he could see Jacinth likewise frozen and shaking uncontrollably, her eyes wide and unblinking.
The monsters were advancing at a constant pace. In seconds they would begin to ascend the hill.
Eyes squeezed shut, Puck tried frantically to conjure an image of everything he had lived through. He had survived so much more before this. That was what the Emerack always did best. He had lived an exhilarating life and he was not about to let it go to waste. Whatever fickle powers governed reality had given him a second chance in surviving the mass slaughter of the foraging party, and he would squeeze all he could out of it.
And Jacinth, and Kirett. His two constant companions for his entire existence had been given a chance too. Puck would not allow any more harm to come to them or the rest of the pack.
With a second resolve, Puck stepped forward, drew his arm back and put all his weight behind throwing the rock. It soared briefly, before being swallowed up by the encroaching shadow at the hill's base.
"Spring," he head Mortai yelling behind him. "Spring!"
The last cry had been made. In one fluid motion, all the Emerack on the nesting hill leapt out of their burrows and almost literally threw themselves at the line of killers. The predators reared back, momentarily hesitating at their prey's ferocity.
As was the idea.
Gathering his wits, Puck raced down towards the bottom of the hill to join the melée; he hoped against hope that Jacinth and Mortai were following him. Plunging into the chaos, all Puck could do was flail indiscriminately at the writhing mass of clawed bodies. In one brief moment, he picked an ideal target: a medium-sized creature on the edge of the fray, with a startled look on its face. It seemed stunned for the time being, but its fighting instincts would soon take over and then it would become much more dangerous.
Puck dashed over to it and kicked at its face.
Howling with outrage, the monster came to its senses and lunged back at Puck with its toothy maw open wide. Ducking and rolling out of the way, Puck tore away from the main brawl and ran for his life. If the Emerack could lead the attackers far enough apart, then the following confusion would give them a moment to prepare again. Puck hoped to lose the beast in the dense forest, or outpace it somehow. He was, after all, a runner; if the time was right, he could be incredibly athletic and have the stamina to match.
He was horribly aware that the monster following him was just as good.
Every second that he spent dodging and weaving through the tightly packed trees, Puck could hear the constant angry footfalls of the predator barely metres behind. All he could do was head in the vague direction of the closest river. At least then he could try to swim away. Could the monsters swim? Puck had no idea. All that mattered was that he kept running. Losing his pursuer was proving to be difficult; both species could see well in the dark and were nimble enough to squeeze through gaps or jump over obstacles. Neither of the two could change the distance between them.
Puck was relieved to hear the familiar sound of running water growing louder as he neared the river, but it was a small comfort. He could practically feel the monster breathing on him as he ran. He couldn't risk looking behind himself; if Puck slipped once, it was all over. The river was in sight, but the gap between them would eventually begin to close. Something had to be done to end the chase before Puck's luck ran out.
Instead of risking a swimming race with the monster, Puck suddenly changed tactics and opted to run along the riverbed. Of course, the creature would follow him. To throw the monster off his trail, Puck had to act against his instincts and all rational ideas. So he slowed down until he thought the monster was almost on him, and then bolted for the nearest tree.
Take it by surprise,he thought as he leaped up at the tree's trunk and kicked off backwards into the oncoming predator.
Puck's suddenly reversed momentum knocked the monster off its feet. It let out a furious roar as the concealed back spikes of what used to be its prey dug into its face. Herbivore and carnivore tangled together and fell to the ground, both struggling wildly to gain the advantage.
The combat itself only lasted for a few seconds at most, but to Puck the sheer violence and animosity felt as if it spanned days. Grainy dirt kicked up at the creatures as they bit and slashed with every weapon they had. Puck held out as well as he could, kicking and stabbing with his tail at a breakneck pace, but he didn't doubt who the final victor would be. He was outmatched in almost every single way, and was already bleeding from a dozen cuts and aching from as many bruises. Any solid hit that his opponent landed would easily be a deathblow.
A swipe from the monster's front paw smacked him backwards and away, and the eager predator darted forwards to begin the feast even as Puck's body began to fall.
Puck knew he was going to die, and was not ready. And the stars blessed him again.
He fell into the river.
The Emerack felt new energy course through his exhausted body, and he twisted around in the water. Puck's eyes adjusted to the sparkling river at lightning speed. Like an idiot the monster was leaping after him. His legs kicked, his fins straightened, and Puck was moving away again. Cutting through the water with unrivalled swiftness, he easily circled around the monster and jetted back to the riverbank. Puck quickly shook the water from his fur and scrambled up the tallest visible tree. He watched from the top as the bemused predator staggered clumsily from the river, whisking its head back and forth as it hopelessly searched for its lost prey. Puck's camouflage was working well, and he had already blended in with the leaves and branches. From his hiding place, he waited patiently for the hunter to wander off so he could rejoin the pack.
He didn't have to wait long.
An expertly thrown rock skimmed from the night shadows and impacted the back of the monster's head with a meaty smack. Its deep growl became a small whine before its legs buckled and it collapsed face-first in the soil. A shape appeared out of the gloom about twenty metres away, casually tossing a second rock in its left hand.
"Well, I wonder who this could possibly be," Puck said sarcastically as he dropped from the tree.
"You know me well," Kirett laughed. He composed himself, and his smile vanished quickly. "You're not too badly hurt, are you?"
Puck examined himself for the first time. Cyan blood oozed slowly from a multitude of scrapes on his legs and arms, dampening his grey-brown fur. Nothing else seemed terribly damaged.
"I'm fine," he concluded. "You?"
"The same," Kirett answered. "I'd hoped to come across you out here. After seeing you, I do feel quite redundant, however. You couldn't have possibly -"
His sentence was never completed, as another hidden creature barrelled into them, knocking them apart.
Stupid, Puck screamed inwardly as he jumped to his feet, you lost track of what you were doing, and now you're paying dearly for it. Kirett's shouts flooded his ears, and Puck saw the new monster's shining teeth bury themselves time and time again in his friend's body. Kirett was pinned beneath its bulk and totally helpless against its attack. Horrific tearing sounds resounded in the trees as the predator gorged itself on meat and bone.
The appalled Puck trembled as he watched on. Watched on.
He is in pain, his mind spoke to him, and will be dead in seconds if you do not stop this.
The sounds and smells of the night vanished from the world to be replaced with the void of fury. Roaring out meaningless nothings, Puck sprinted at the carnage and put all of his weight behind a huge barge. The monster was bowled over, and most importantly kept away from Kirett. Puck gave the predator no chance to react, leaping onto its chest and pummelling it relentlessly with fists, feet and teeth. What had once been vengeful counter attacks from the monster became scared thrashing as it failed to shake its prey off. Puck adjusted his balance and, with a final yell of defiance, plunged his tail spike through the monster's stomach.
The predator's anguished shriek, so close to Puck's head, gave him pause for a moment. But then he remembered his mangled friend twitching on the ground in a puddle of his own blood.
He gave the spike a twist.
The darkly satisfied herbivore stepped off the writhing monster and ran to where Kirett lay. His eyes were closed, not tightly, which filled Puck with dread. Hunks of skin and fat had been torn from all parts of his body and bled profusely. Most noticeable was his right leg, which had been mangled and pulverised beyond all recognition. The sight was almost too much for Puck, almost choking at the scene. Cupping his hands, he scooped water from the river and tried tipping it into Kirett's mouth. No reaction was forthcoming.
The hopelessness was crushing. The Emerack fell into stunned silence. No. There will be a way to change this. He tried forcing the water into his mouth again, but it pattered uselessly onto the ground. Puck grasped Kirett's wrist and felt for a pulse. In his mind he thought he sensed a heartbeat, and leapt at the idea. At a loss for any way to rouse his friend, Puck splayed Kirett's hands out on the soil, and pressed his palms against them. Fighting to control his breathing, Puck slowed his voice down and settled it almost into a monotone. Feeling the sounds of the world and the smell of the blood drain away, he recited the words.
While there is a dawn we will wake, while there is a day we will fight . . .
Kirett did not stir. Puck continued regardless.
. . . while there is a night we will run, and our eyes will not lose their sight, when -
A tremor. Puck could feel it, somehow, somewhere.
When our bodies may be spent, when all the light seems gone, while there is a life we will still venture on . . .
He put weight on the final sentence.
. . . dancing in the gaze of the stars.
Puck was jolted back into consciousness as Kirett's body lurched and he sat upright. Puck scrambled up from the mud and saw his face.
Kirett was breathing quickly, and his bloodshot eyes bored into Puck's head. He simply sat, panting quietly, and never taking his eyes from Puck's own. They both sat in shocked silence for what seemed like an hour, before Kirett's breathing slowed and he slumped on his back, seemingly giving into the pain again. Almost relieved, Puck relaxed his body again and dragged Kirett up by the arm, supporting his almost dead weight gently on his shoulder. He slowly began to walk back into the forest, Kirett in tow, dragging his tail in the grass as he moved.
Behind him somewhere, the monster gave its last breath.
. . .
Lying on Its back, a solitary animal stared at the red sphere in fascination. The hard yet smooth material had been the most personal and persisting element to It's existence since the awakening, and was still glowing hotly, the light rhythmically darkening and re-lighting, like a day compressed into the span of a second. It had tried to remove it a few times, but it would not move no matter how hard It scratched and pulled.
It still wasn't quite sure what to make of this life. There were constant factors, like night and day, the ground beneath Its feet, the food It had to eat to push back the empty feelings, and those offered a sort of comfort. But It still didn't feel comfortable with the other things milling around in the world, snuffling in the earth or pelting through the bushes. One or two that It had seen even flew through the air. And all of them had to eat. More to the point, the had to eat It's food.
So It had made them food.
After a while, they learned to stay away from It, and ran when It came near. So they weren't completely stupid. Having to chase and catch meals made life more of a challenge, and rather more fun. But the larger creatures were another matter entirely. The cut along It's torso, while only a long red welt now, was testament to that fact. For the most part It had stayed clear of them, biding Its time. They would be removed in the end, once It had had enough time to fully explore this existence.
And yet even more disturbing than the food-stealers were the thoughts.
As was proving to be normal, It would expend a great amount of energy journeying, hunting, and then eating in that order, and rest when the day was over. But in the night-light, when It let Its body go, thoughts would drift into It's mind. Obscure, convoluted and nonsensical thoughts.
And when the sun rose above the distant hills in the morning, It would not recall the ideas and images that It had seen in the night-light. All that It was left with was a murmuring, an abstract feeling of wrongness that couldn't be shaken off. Despite It's perfect life in this world, something was always there, on the fringe of Its senses, and It somehow knew the feeling was wrong. Naturally wrong.
Perplexed, It stared into the scarlet light. The truth would come.
. . .
Eyes: The instruments state that both visual feeds are running smoothly through your hub.
Ears: Yes. The tactics and coordination displayed by the animals is astounding.
Eyes: Which is precisely why they were chosen. With innate genetic instinct like that, the subjects will be ideal for adaptation, as already demonstrated on Specimen #1's stomach structure and digestive system.
Ears: It has been noticed that the Specimen occupies a good deal of his resting time by studying the prototype. Could any harm come of it?
Eyes: Not that we know of. Its colour may prove fascinating to animals who are unused to such things, but as you know there is no way for it to be changed.
Ears: The chemistry and biology that make up the animals' native planet are in the process of being scanned. The order will be given to commence Project Magog once they are complete. Until then, continue to monitor Specimen #1. See if he withstands the test of time.
I honestly, truly did not want to leave it this long, and I'm guilty for it. In response to my own inability to write a chapter of decent length and content quickly enough, I'm going to set myself a challenge. I'll do my best to write a good chapter every fortnight, and see how long I can manage it for.
In other story-related news, I will be posting images of all the animals present in my story soon enough, including the Emerack, the antlered beasts and the "monsters". Until then . . .
I'm seriously happy that people take the time to read this, and insert heartfelt plea for reviews here. Thanks again.